


Capitulate

by blueberryfallout



Category: Kickboxer: Vengeance
Genre: Complete Disregard Of Canon, Dom/sub, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, boys crying is my jam, fuck canon so people can get fucked 2k16, sex crying so it's all good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: there wasn't any works for this shit movie so i wrote one myself. if you've seen it, just pretend that no one died in the movie yada yada yada it all comes down to i thought tong po was hot and i like seeing pretty boys get taken apart anyway enjoy my shit attempts at smut





	

**Author's Note:**

> there wasn't any works for this shit movie so i wrote one myself. if you've seen it, just pretend that no one died in the movie yada yada yada it all comes down to i thought tong po was hot and i like seeing pretty boys get taken apart anyway enjoy my shit attempts at smut

It’s not until Po has him on his knees that Kurt realizes this might be a sex thing. Po stares down at him, impassive, thumb hooked in the elastic of his waistband.

His tattoos are…really detailed, from this close up, a dragon tail curling around his waist and into his shorts. The other hand wraps around the back of Kurt’s head, getting a good grip in his hair that Kurt leans into without really meaning to. “I…thought we were fighting?” Kurt says, uncertain.

“We were.” Po takes a firmer hold, shaking him a bit. “Now we are not.” 

“Um. Po?” 

This earns him a harder shake, enough that his vision kind of blurs for a second. “You will call me sir.” 

That shouldn’t make him swallow and shiver, but it does anyway. “I don’t get it,” he mumbles, hanging his head, and Po’s hand moves to cup his cheek, stroking along his jaw. 

“You’re pretty, American. You don’t have to be smart.” Kurt would be more offended if he wasn’t currently sucking Po’s thumb into his mouth, tasting salt and blood. “Good boy,” Po rumbles, and Kurt dips his head.  
+  
It isn’t until two hours later, when Kurt is shaking and shivering and he _needs_ to come, that he has any regrets about this situation. Po seems to be having a great time, sitting there, watching Kurt struggle with that fucking smirk on his face like he’s better than everyone and he _knows_ it. 

Kurt started crying ten minutes ago, tears running down his face and into his hair, pulling at the ties on his wrists like that’ll do anything, he just wants Po to keep _touching_ him. “Touch me, you fucking asshole!” he yells, arching into the hand Po runs down his chest, the look in his eyes proprietary. Kurt might actually be going insane. 

Po huffs a laugh. “Say please.” Kurt bites his bottom lip, spreading his legs a little more, watching Po’s eyes go dark. Maybe he won’t have to say please after all, won’t have to let Po win whatever this is. Or, he could say please, and realize that he left all dignity behind when he got on his knees for the man who kicked his ass.

“Please?” Po grins, victorious, and Kurt would hate himself more if he wasn’t getting his dick touched. Almost immediately he’s right on the edge again, needing more than Po’s slow, mocking touches. There’s someone whining, almost mewling, and he realizes it’s him, pushing his hips up into Po’s hand, being a slut for it, begging now, shameless. “Please please please, _please_ lemme come, you gotta…” Po just smiles.  
+  
Later, when Kurt’s a shivering, fucked out mess, on his hands and elbows with his back arched, arms having given out long ago, Po pulls his head back by the hair, pulling Kurt almost to the limit but never beyond. He cries out, struggling against Po’s superior weight, caught between pain and pleasure and unsure which is which. 

“Who do you belong to?” Po asks pleasantly, calm like he hasn’t been fucking Kurt for the last half hour, through his second orgasm and beyond, when he began crying again.

“I…what?” Kurt mumbles, his face pressed into the sheets, wet. He can’t think, can’t focus on anything other than how good he feels, how Po just scraped sharp nails down his back but he _liked_ it. 

“Pay attention, hwan ci.” Kurt doesn’t speak Thai well enough to figure out what that means, guesses from Po’s tone that it’s an endearment. “Who do you belong to?” Po says again, getting a firm grip on Kurt’s waist, pulling him into the cradle of his hips. 

“No one,” Kurt spits, because he’ll be stubborn to the end though he’s already regretting his words as Po bares his teeth, bends to sink them into Kurt’s shoulder. The sharp pain makes him yelp, clenching tight enough to make Po groan, a low noise in the back of his throat. 

“You know the right answer, hwan ci. I can stop right now if I want.” 

The thought of that makes Kurt want to scream, baring his neck in submission, whispering, “You. I belong to you.” 

“The brave warrior, tamed,” Po mocks, but his tone is fond as he hauls Kurt to just his knees, wrapping a hand around his throat. “But you will get the reward you deserve.”  
+  
Po is sleeping on his side, his broad back exposed to Kurt, the tattoos blurring together in this dark but the scratches Kurt left on his shoulders clear. He sleeps easily, unworried that Kurt will try to kill him again, knowing he _owns_ him and the thought should piss Kurt off, but all it does is make something dark and pleased unfold in his chest. His hips ache, throat’s sore, and he’s covered in bruises, fucked to an inch of his life. It’s perfect. He rolls into Po’s reassuring bulk, letting his eyes close, and sleeps.


End file.
